Bet For Life
by Agent Sandra Cartrip
Summary: When Lucky won't refund a man's bet, the man takes Andamo hostage and sends a female killer to keep Lucky at bay. Lucky has 24 hours to give him the money, or Andamo will be killed. May be discontinued, but offers to finish the story are welcome. (I will most likely keep this up for a while longer in case I decide to update)
1. The Kidnapping

The launch sped towards the giant yacht, it's neon sign flashing. Inside, people laughed and bustled about, talking or reading the menus, or consulting their host. Mr. Lucky, who owned and ran the place, was weaving his way through the sea of tables, greeting people and seeing to their every need. As he made his way to the back, he saw his Latino friend, Andamo, waving him over.

"What is it, Compadre?" he asked, stopping beside him.

"That guy over there," said Andamo, motioning to an older man with thin blonde hair and a goatee. "I don't think he got his supper."

"I'll take a look," said Lucky, hurrying past him to where the man sat. "Good evening," he said to the man, "I'm Mr. Lucky. Can I get you anything? Champagne? Crepe Suzette?"

"You could get me my money back." grunted the man.

Lucky's thick eyebrows knit. "What?"

The man looked up at him. "My money," he pressed, "I owed you a bet of fifty thousand dollars. Well, I'm calling it off."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Lucky, "You know what you don't have when you gamble—a refund."

"Yes, well, I'm in a crisis, and I have to call it off," said the man.

"Look here Clement," Lucky's voice dropped, "If you're in trouble, you should never have made that bet."

"I wasn't at first," replied Clement, "It happened rather suddenly a short time ago. I can barely keep up with my taxes, and I may have to sell my house or file for bankruptcy, and I can't do that."

"There are other things you can do," said Lucky, "But I can't refund it. That was a long time ago. I'm sorry. I can give you a job here if you need money that badly."

Clement stood up. "I won't tolerate this, Lucky. This is highway robbery!"

"You shouldn't have bet so much money!" Lucky yelled in a whisper, "Now, if you want help, I'll talk to the attorneys, give you a job here, anything but refunding."

Clement's face turned radish red. "I won't tolerate this, Lucky! I'll see to it that you are arrested, if not sued first!"

Lucky pointed to the exit. "Get off! I won't have that kind of behavior on my boat! I'll call the launch to take you to shore. If you hesitate, you'll swim ashore. And if you come back on here again, I'll have the police on you so fast you won't be able to blink an eye before you see bars in front of your eyes! Now go!"

Clement started towards the exit. Then he stopped and turned. "I warned you Lucky! I told you to refund my money! If you don't, I'll have you and your boat blown up, but not before you see the corpse of your friend shot, stabbed, whipped, and torn, floating in the water, being eaten by fish, and pulled under by bloodthirsty sharks!"

Lucky bit his lip to prevent the loads of swearing he wanted to spew. "Get off. Now!"

Clement shrugged. "I warned you." With that, he left.

For a time Lucky just stood there, watching the launch depart. He bit down angrily on the cigarette he'd just lit, glaring at the man, while on the other side, Andamo came over to see what was troubling his friend. "'Sup Compadre?"

"That guy there, Clement," said Lucky, "He wants his fifty million back."

"Didn't you tell him we don't do refunds?" asked Andamo.

"Yes, but he didn't listen." said Lucky.

"What do you think we should do then?" asked Andamo.

Lucky sucked in his breath. "I think," he said slowly, "We should go and talk to Rovacs."

"But he almost never helps." Andamo pointed out.

"We don't have much of a choice," said Lucky as he headed to his cabin, dodging the departing people. "When someone gives you a death threat, you take action."

…...

Forty excruciating minutes later, the launch had reached shore and Lucky's car was now in the parking lot of the police headquarters. Inside, Lucky argued over the matter with Lt. Rovacs.

"Look, Lucky," said Rovacs as he lit his cigarette, "I can't do anything about it, even if I wanted to. Your boat's past the line."

"Rovacs, I told you, Benito L. Clement wants the fifty thousand dollars he owed me back, and if I don't, he's going to kill Andamo and blow me and my boat up!"

"Look, I'm sure he was just bluffing." said Rovacs, "he has no issues. He's rich, and a little loss of fifty thousand isn't going to bug him."

"Oh?" asked Lucky.

"Yeah. Well, his gambling debts have reached one million dollars, so he's gotta keep up with his taxes, but otherwise he's fine. He can do without it."

"All right, but can't you just send some squad cars after him or something?" demanded Lucky, who was growing angrier by the moment.

"Now look, Lucky, I can't just barge into his house and announce an arrest until we have proof," said Rovacs, "got any?"

"Not yet, but I will soon." said Lucky, "In the meantime, can you at least keep him confined here on land?"

"Well, there isn't much I can do there," said Rovacs, "But I can try to keep him from escaping the country."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Lucky, "I think we'll be leaving."

"Good evening gentlemen," the lieutenant called after him.

Lucky muttered a reply and left, Andamo right beside him. "Boy, he's sure a stuffy one, that Rovacs."

Lucky shook his head. "Still the same, impossible Lt. Tom Rovacs all right."

"Si. But, Lucky, uh, why would he threaten me? I mean, I haven't gotten anything he'd want."

"He's threatening you because you're my friend," Lucky said, "I've got to find a way to stop him. But, in the meantime, I've got to keep you and the boat safe."

"Ah, how?" Andamo asked.

"Right now, I'm going back to the Fortuna," said Lucky, "I want to be there in case Clement or some crackpot decides to come aboard."

Andamo shrugged. "All right. Think you can keep 'em off?"

"You've got a bet."

…...

As soon as Lucky and Andamo where back, they made searched even the smallest hiding places, in case a bomb or thug was hiding. After that, they locked up. "Andamo, until we figure this out some more, I think we'd better stay here. I want you to head to your cabin and lock yourself in. Call me if you need anything."

"All right," said Andamo as he hurried off, "G'night Compadre."

"Good night, Andamo," called Lucky. As soon as he was gone, he muttered, "Not."

Andamo hurried to his cabin and locked the door shut. He let out a sigh. Although he would not admit it, he was scared. He had been threatened before, but this particular threat frightened him. He wanted to live, of course.

Shaking off the scary thoughts, Andamo made his way to the bed and plopped down with some cards and, unable to sleep, entertained himself playing solitaire.

About an hour and a half later, Andamo began to feel thirsty. _Wish I had brought some champagne with me._

He tried to ignore it, but he was beginning to get very uncomfortable. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, he got up and decided to grab some from the wine cellar, and then make his way back.

He creaked the door open and scouted the area. It was very dark, and Andamo didn't want to attract anyone with the lights on. So he crept his way through the dark, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He finally found the wine cellar. But as he was browsing for some old fashioned wine, he thought he heard footsteps. But they weren't Lucky's heavy thumps. They were lighter, like a young man's. This made Andamo nervous. Grabbing a bottle and a glass, he kept one hand in his pocket, where his gun was. Ducking, he hurried back to his cabin, the footsteps now seeming very close. Warm breath touched the back of his neck, and he could almost feel something brush against his back.

_I'd better alert Lucky!_

Andamo's pace quickened as he raced to Lucky's cabin, but as soon as his hand touched the knob he felt a huge KNOCK on the back of his head. His consciousness going, he collapsed to the ground, dropping the glass and bottle, the dark purple liquid spilling all over the floor.


	2. A Hard Way out

Lucky rushed to the door and flung it open. "What is it?"

Suspicious silence met his question. Lucky glanced around the room, finding no-one.

"Andamo? Was that you?" he called.

Silence. Lucky pondered. He started to step forward when his foot stepped on something sharp, creating a sickening _crunch._

Lucky sucked in his breath. Stepping backwards, he saw broken glass, with dark purple stains. Lucky recognized it as one of his fancy grape juices, as some people called it. But the sight that made his stomach tighten was Andamo's bracelet, which lay among the shattered bottle. Gingerly, he reached down and picked it up, the knot in his stomach growing. In his mind, he could hear Clement voicing his threats.

Suddenly the hard realization struck him; His friend Andamo had been kidnapped!

_Perhaps one of Clement's goons knocked him out with a bottle as he tried to reach me!_

Clutching the bracelet tightly in his fist, he rushed to the deck just in time to see a speed boat hurrying away. Spewing a curse, he ran to the phone and dialed as quickly as his shaking fingers would let him.

"Hello? Operator, please get me Clegg Pudge...Pudge? It's Lucky. I'm sorry I disturbed you, but I need a launch right now...yes, it's an emergency...thank you, please hurry...yes, yes...good-bye."

He then hung up. Opening the drawer, the pulled out his gun and tucked it into his jacket. Although he hoped he wouldn't have to use it, he would if it was the only thing he could do to save his partner.

The sound of a speed boat could soon be heard. Lucky was relieved as he hurried outside and hopped onto the launch.

"Where to, Lucky?" asked Pudge.

"Did you see that boat, can you follow it?" asked Lucky.

"Sure thing, Mister," nodded Pudge as the launch sped off.

Lucky clung to the pole as the ship sped to shore, praying it wasn't too late to save Andamo.

_Just hold on, buddy, I'm coming as fast as I can._

…...

It seemed like hours before the launch finally reached the shore. As Lucky headed to the garage to get his car, he asked every passerby he saw if they had seen the boat. One woman reported seeing a small boat with two people in it, one of them unconscious, and they left in a dark cyan 1956 Ford Sunliner. However, she did not know where it went, nor what the license plate was.

Lucky pulled out a cigarette and lit it, trying to calm himself. He wavered between contacting Rovacs or trying to trace the car. But Lucky knew Rovacs wasn't going to do anything about it, and without the license plate or the VIN, there was no hope of tracking the car down. But there was one alternative; if he could find out where Clement lived or the places he would hang out at, then he could track him down. But if he wanted to do that, he would have to talk to the stingy Lieutenant.

Sighing, he walked into the garage and started up his car. Pulling the hood up, he drove out into the rain, his focus on the road. He had one mission and only one; to save his friend from death for something he had nothing to do with.

…...

"So let me get this straight; Clement hired somebody to knock out Andamo and take him someplace? And you say if you don't refund his bet he's going to kill him?"

"Yes," Lucky sighed, exasperated, "But he knows the policy, and he knows that when he gambles he's at risk of loosing money. Now, I don't ever recommend gambling to everyone because of this, and I've actually tried to talk a few people out of it, but he went on ahead and did it. He made an agreement, and now he's trying to break it."

"Look Lucky, I believe you," said Rovacs, "But without concrete evidence there's nothing I can do."

"Lieutenant," Lucky protested, "I'm trying to work on that, but Andamo is in danger and if you don't apprehend that guy Andamo will be very dead! I will not let an innocent man who has _nothing _to do with this be killed!"

"Lucky, telling me this is not enough," said Rovacs, "So why waste your time with this when you know the rules; no evidence, no help."

"Rovacs," said Lucky, leaning on the Lieutenant's desk, "All I'm asking is that you try to find the vehicle. Just put Peter Gunn on that case. In the meantime, just tell me where Clement lives, or where he likes to spend his time."

"Oh sure," said Rovacs, "He lives on 7th Street, a few miles from here. He owns the little blue house with cyan trimming. It's the only house on the block that's matches the description. As for his hangout places, well, he likes casinos. If he's not at home, he's in the casino or some other gaming place. He shouldn't be too hard to find."

"I hope not," said Lucky, "Well, I'd better go look for him. Good evening, Rovacs."

Lucky shut the door before Rovacs could respond.

…...

Andamo's eyes fluttered. Everything was just a big blur. He blinked again. He could see a little more clearly now, but the whole place was pitch-black and he had no idea where he was. As he became more awake, he realized he propped upright on something. As he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, the throbbing in his head worsened.

"Ooh boy, I must have fallen off the wrong side of the bed," he mumbled as he sank back onto the bags of flour. He glanced around some more. "Where the dickens am I?"

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw cracks of light through the door. He also saw what looked like stacks of wine.

"I'm in a wine cellar!" he realized out-loud, "But boy, this sure ain't Lucky's!"

The door creaked open. "You're quite right, Mr. Andamo."

The cold, cruel voice made Andamo cringe. "Who are you?"

"I am Bing Moreen," came the reply, "I am to make sure you are comfortable during your stay."

"And how long will that be?" demanded Andamo boldly.

The big shadow smirked. "That will depend on how soon Lucky decides to take action. For your own sake, he'd better pay quickly, or he could loose himself a partner. But I have bigger plans."

Andamo's stomach twisted. "Bigger plans?"

"Yes," said the man, "What happens when Lucky finally decides his partner is more important, repays the money, and—Ho!-just imagine the looks on his face when he finds out he spent fifty thousand dollars on a corpse!"

Andamo gulped as the man roared in evil laughter. "That corpse will be me, by some coincidence."

"Precisely, Señor!" praised the man, "But until then, I must give you a... shall we say, a bit of a makeover?"

Andamo fought to keep the butterflies in his stomach from jumping out. "But, uh, don't you think I look fine enough?"

The shadowy figure shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my dear Andamo. I want Lucky to pour fifty thousand dollars into a _good-looking _corpse. One that will make his blood curdle!"

Andamo was horrified. "I gets it now; you're gonna torture me bloody until you get what you want."

"Yes indeed. And speaking of which, shall we begin and get it over with?" asked the eerie voice.

"Eh, do I have much of a choice?" asked Andamo, trying to keep his voice calm.

Before the figure could answer, a rough, stern voice broke the silence.

"Moreen! Come up here this instant!"

Moreen took a glance backwards. "I'm afraid I shall have to postpone your little makeover until I find out what Clement wants."

"That's fine. Do take your time," said Andamo.

"Thank you, Señor," said Moreen, closing the door. There was the sound of a lock, then fading footsteps. Andamo waited to make sure he was out of earshot. He scooted himself as close as he could to a shelf and pulled down a bottle, breaking it. He flinched slightly at the noise, expecting to hear the sound of angry footsteps. But all was silent, so Andamo rubbed at his bonds with a shard of glass. Unfortunately, the process was slow, and Andamo was beginning to tire. _If I can get these bonds loose enough, maybe I can snap them with brute force. _

Andamo worked on them a little more. After a while he felt them loosen, and with one mighty heave he snapped them. The Latino sighed in relief until saw his wrists, which were raw, blistering, and bloody. He also noticed his bracelet was gone. _Those goons must have taken it! _He thought sadly. It had been a gift from his now deceased sister, whom he had been very close to, and he was never without it. Shrugging, he resumed cutting the ropes that held his feet. That done, he got up and listened at the door, and, hearing no one, opened it just a crack. The hall was dimly lit, but no one was around. Andamo hurried out, quietly, into the hall.

_Now what do I do? There are so many doors. _Boldly, the Latino flung open a door, expecting someone to jump out at him. But all was clear as he surveyed the flight of stairs leading down. _An escape route!_

He hurried down the marble stairs, trying not to trip as he made his way down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he saw another door that he assumed was an exit. He raced out that door, and the next, which finally led to the outside. _Thank Heaven!But now what do I do?Walk to the police station?_

Andamo decided to get walking, keeping an eye out for any patrol cars, policemen, and of course, Lucky or thugs. Perhaps he could get a taxi to take him to the dock, and then he could rent a boat and sail back to the Fortuna.

Andamo reached into his pocket and frowned. His money was gone, taken by that no-good lout, no doubt. _Guess I'll just have to keep walking._

As he walked, he surveyed the quiet downtown and the starry night sky. It was almost relaxing, and Andamo's pace quickened with new-found energy. Straightening his white short-sleeved shirt, he walked on, the streetlights guiding him through the little town.

After walking a few miles, Andamo was hungry. He passed several restaurants, but had no money. He tried to ignore the growling in his stomach, but it began to get annoying. Finally, he reached a house with a tree full of crab apples in its front yard. Andamo gingerly plucked a small one off the tree, figuring no one would care about loosing one that size. He bit into it, the sour flavor tickling his taste-buds, his body craving the food. Oh, how he wanted another one. But he knew he had to get out of town, so he carried on. Once or twice he thought about hailing down a cab, but decided against it.

_I hope I can find my way back._

Andamo carried on, but the night air was chilly, his feet were sore, and his body was tried. He wanted to lie down someplace, but he couldn't stop, or Clement's thugs would get him. If only he could find a phone and call Lucky or Rovacs. But phone calls cost money, and Andamo didn't have a penny with him.

However, his luck seemed to get better when he passed a house with its lights on. _That means somebody's home!_

Andamo hurried to the door as fast as his shaking legs would let him. His feverish body trembled as he rung the doorbell. Suddenly, his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the ground.

The door opened, revealing a dark haired woman in her early thirties. She glanced around, seeing no one. "Hello?"

"I'm down here." said Andamo, looking up.

The woman seemed startled. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded, her tone frightened.

Andamo pulled himself up and held onto the railing for support. "My name is Andamo. I work on Mr. Lucky's yacht the Fortuna II. I need to make a call. Do you mind if I use your phone?"

The girl eyed him suspiciously. "Why don't you use the payphone?"

"Well..." began Andamo, "It's a long story, but I've just escaped being held prisoner by a Benito Clement, and he took all my pocket money. I need to call Lucky or the police to take me back. I've been walking for hours until I saw your lights."

The woman nodded, her green eyes full of understanding. "All right," she said as she let him in.

"Thank you so much, Señorita," said Andamo as he limped over to the couch and sat down.

The woman gasped. "You're hurt!"

Andamo looked down at his bloodied wrists and nodded.

"Just sit here and I'll go get something for it," she said as she disappeared down a narrow hallway.

"Thanks," muttered Andamo as he sank into the cushions.

The woman appeared again with a first aid kit. She sat beside him and applied an ointment onto his wrists. "That should help them heal," she said, "You've got some nasty cuts, but they'll heal quickly."

"Good," said Andamo, "And I really appreciate the help, Miss, uh-"

"Edsel," said the woman, "I'm Zuleika Gregory Edsel. I'm just a secretary for a little company in this town. I just got home."

"You work late, eh?" asked Andamo.

Zuleika nodded and applied the bandages. "Yes. But it's a well-paying job, and my boss is great. I can live comfortably off it."

"That's good," said Andamo, his voice strained.

Zuleika looked up at him. "Are you all right? You sound very tired, and...a little ill."

Andamo couldn't deny it; his throat was sore, he was tired and out of breath, and cold all over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so miserable. "I have been walking in the cold inadequately dressed," he admitted, "But I'm sure it's nothing a warm fire can't cure."

Zuleika eyed him seriously. "I think you'd better spend the night," she said, "You're in no shape to travel. I promise I'll get you home tomorrow. I have spare pajamas and an extra toothbrush you can borrow."

Andamo glanced around the warm room. "Why thank you, Miss, I really appreciate it."

Zuleika smiled and tucked her straight neck-length hair behind her ear. "Anytime."

Andamo's stomach growled. "Sorry," he said with a weak smile as he put a hand over his stomach, "I'm really hungry. Do you have anything I can snack on?"

"Of course, you poor man," said Zuleika, "I have fruit, crackers, and cheese."

"All sounds good to me," Andamo smiled.

Zuleika smiled. "All right. And I think I'll get us some mint tea, too. That should warm you up."

Andamo watched with a weak smile as she assembled a fruit and cheese plate and brought it to the coffee table as the tea brewed. They then sat and chatted until the kettle whistled. Andamo watched the young woman pour the warm liquid into two cups and set them on the coffee table. "There," she said, "That should do the trick."

Andamo plucked a green grape off the plate and took a sip of tea. "It does. Thank you."

Zuleika smiled. "Tell me, Andamo, what was going on?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story," Andamo told her the whole story from kidnapping to escape. Zuleika put a hand to her mouth.

"Really? How horrible! I've heard of Clement, and I knew he held up the big shots, but, golly! I'm so sorry you went through that!"

"Me too," said Andamo, "Say, uh, do you mind if I use your phone? I at least should tell Lucky that I'm here."

"Of course," said Zuleika, "It's right over there."

Andamo got up and hobbled on over to the counter and dialed the Fortuna's number. He stood there for about a minute, and then hung up. "He must be out," he said, "It just kept ringing. I could call Rovacs, but I doubt he's willing to take me back. Besides, Lucky has the key."

"I think you're better off here for now." said Zuleika, "I promise I'll drive you home first thing tomorrow, since it's my day off."

"Thank you, Zuleika," said Andamo, "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll shower and turn in."

"All right," she said, "I'll show you were the bathroom is."

She put her arm around his shoulders and started to escort him down the hall when the sound of a door being brutally flung open sounded.

"Stay where you are!" a cruel voice sounded, "Both of you. If anyone's stupid enough to make any sudden moves he or she is going to end up dead on the ground!"

Zuleika started at the dark stranger in horror. "Benito! Whatever in the world is going on?"


	3. An Informative Woman

Lucky's car slowed as it reached the house matching the description Rovacs had given him. He stopped his car, got out, and made his way to the door and knocked. An old, white haired woman answered. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she croaked.

"I'm Mr. Lucky," he said, "I wish to see Mr. Clement. He owes me a bet."

"That ol' boy's always getting' into trouble, making all them bets," she muttered.

"Is he home?" asked Lucky.

"Nope," said the old lady, "He's out at Lorena's club, probably sleepin' 'round women."

"Where's Lorena's club?" asked Lucky.

"Why it's in Featherstone County," said the woman, "Why?"

"I have an appointment with him," said Lucky, "So I'd better be going. Thank you, ma'am, and have a good day."

The woman just snorted as Lucky made his way back to the car. In his excitement he nearly shoved the gas pedal to the floor as he sped down the neighborhood and onto the highway.

"Just hold on, Andamo! I'm coming!"

…...

Andamo shuddered in realization at the man aiming the large rifle at them. He glanced over at Zuleika, whose eyes were as big as saucers. "You know him?"

The woman only nodded.

"I've told you not to interfere with my plans, Zuleika," Benito Clement warned, his voice low, "And then you drag this tramp into your home and pamper him unnecessarily."

"Benito, I swear, I did nothing to upset you!" Zuleika protested, "Just hear me, please!"

Benito fired a shot, hitting the creamy-yellow wall. "I don't want to hear any of your lame excuses! This ragbag is coming back with me!"

"No please!" protested Zuleika,throwing herself onto the gun. "Let him be!"

Clement thrust the young woman aside, her head hitting the wall. She collapsed to the ground. Andamo rushed to her aid, only for Clement to fire and narrowly miss Andamo's arm.

"No rash moves, Señor." he warned, his voice low.

Andamo's eyes sparked. "I made her do it, you know. She didn't wanna, but I threatened to expose you. So she did it to protect you."

Clement hooted. "You know, you're not such a bad liar," he said, "But your lie is lost on me."

Andamo's eyes were drilled into the attacker's. "I'm warning you, Clement, Lucky's on your trail, and I'll call the police on you if you don't get out."

But Clement only laughed. "Oh, that Lieutenant Rovacs! He never arrests anyone but drunks! I don't even know how he made it into the Police Force. He won't be coming after you! And, as for Lucky, I will be sending someone to distract him. He has a weakness of booze and women, you know."

"Lucky won't abandon me for some girl!" Andamo cried out hotly.

"Ah, but he will, as long as it's done right. Now, come along quietly, and I'll fill you in on the whole story."

Andamo glanced back at Zuleika, who was now awake, but not quite conscious. "What about her?"

"Oh she'll be fine!" he snapped, "Now come along!"

Andamo seemed to consider for a moment. "I guess I don't have a choice."

Before Clement could reply, Andamo jumped onto the man, pinning him to the ground. In lightning fast speed he had the rifle. "All right, get up!"

Clement snarled. "You are very clever!" he snapped, "But I think you are incapable of firing!"

Andamo glared. "Says who?"

"I only loaded a couple of bullets in that thing, dumb Hispanic!"

"Latino."

"Whatever! That point is, you haven't got any gun. You are going to come with me or else!"

Andamo felt his pocket. Of course his gun was gone. Clement would have seen to that.

"You don't have a gun." he snarled.

"But I have the rifle," said Andamo, "And I'm quite sure that you're bluffing about it not being loaded."

Clement smirked. "I'll believe you when you pull that trigger."

Andamo fired several times. _Clink! Clink! Clink!_

"Nice try, Latino," he said, "but I only loaded a few bullets."

"Boy, you watch a lot of television," he Andamo said, handing over the gun, "Looks like something out of the Late Show."

"We will have more time for discussion at my humble abode." said Clement. "Now move along."

"Nice try," said Andamo, "but you've got no gun."

Clement sighed and pulled a small pistol from inside his pocket. "Are you so sure of yourself now?"

Andamo shook his head.

"Good. Now let's get going."

Before Andamo could do or say anything, Clement shoved him through the door and down the steps. Andamo's weak legs couldn't catch him, and he toppled down the stone steps and onto the cement. His body crashed into the hard surface. His head hit the hard road, and the blow knocked him unconscious. Clement pulled him to his feet, slug him over his shoulders, and thrust him into the back of the Sunliner. He then sped off as fast as the car could go.

…...

"This is it," said Lieutenant Rovacs, "This is Mother's."

"You said this is where ol' Pete likes hangin' out?" asked one of his deputies.

"Yeah, Gunn likes this place. His girlfriend is the singer, ya know." said Rovacs as he got out of the car, "It's a shame I have to break up his little party, but I got a case for him. Keep watch, I'll be right back."

The lieutenant walked to the building and opened the door. The sounds of glasses clinking, people laughing and chatting, clinking of silverware, and the low, smoky singing voice of Edie Hart flowed their way into his ears as he entered. The scent of smoke and seafood tickled his nose as he weaved through the little round tables to where a lanky guy sat alone in the corner, swishing his glass of tequila with one hand. His eyes were fixed on the young blonde singer.

Rovacs cleared his throat. "Gunn?"

The man glanced up. "Oh, hi, Lieutenant," he greeted, "What's going on? Have a seat."

"Thank you," said Rovacs as he sat across from him, "Gunn, I've got a little something for you and Jacoby."

"What might that be?" asked Peter Gunn.

"You familiar with Mr. Lucky?" asked Rovacs, "You know, the guy who runs the floating restaurant?"

"Oh yes," said Gunn, "We've come across each other from time to time." His eyes narrowed in concern. "What about him?"

"Well, his friend Andamo got kidnapped earlier tonight. He suspects that it was Benito Clement—you know, the big shot?"

"Yeah, I've heard of Clement," said Gunn, "And Andamo...he's Sal's Latino cousin, right?"

"Sal Andamo? Yeah, that's right." said Rovacs, "Well, anyway, I need you and Jacoby to track down this car. It's a dark cyan 1956 Ford Sunliner."

"Well, I can try, Lieutenant, but without the license or the VIN or any other identification mark, it's unlikely we'll be able to find the vehicle. I'll drop my Clements place and see if I can do any unsupervised snooping. And some of the local casinos, too."

"Lucky's already hit the casino," said Rovacs, "I just need you to check the place and try to track the car down. I'll send Jacoby and a few other detectives and deputies to accompany you. Think you can manage?"

"I'll try," said Gunn. He then got up. "Well, I'd better get started. Good evening, Lieutenant."

"Good evening, Gunn," said Rovacs as he shook his hand, "When you find the place, just give me a holler and I'll send over some squad cars and an ambulance, in case Andamo's gotten himself into a bad predicament."

"Very well. I'll let you know." said Gunn.

"Take care." called Rovacs as he departed.

"I'll try," called Gunn. Then, in a lower voice, said, "I just hope it's not too late. Clement's a violent man."

With that, he got up and headed out to his car.

…...

Lucky's Chrysler New Yorker came to a halt in front of the large building with the flashing neon sign LORENA'S CLUB.

"Well, this is it," said Lucky as he got out. Pushing the large glass doors open, he walked into the fancy casino. It was jam packed with people, so it was hard for Lucky see if Clement was in the group. At that moment, a young waiter stopped by Lucky. "Can I get you anything, sir?"

"Just a certain fellow," said Lucky, "Is Benito Clement here?"

"Clement?" the man checked his list. "I'm sorry sir, but no. It is rather strange, though, because he's always hanging out here on Friday nights."

Lucky shrugged. "That's too bad. I was hoping someone could help me find him. I really need to speak to him."

"Perhaps I can be of some help."

Lucky spun around to see a petite raven haired woman in a tight dark blue halter dress standing behind him. She was in her early thirties and had an oval face framed by dangling diamond-cut earrings and wisps of hair that had escaped her snood, and light green eyes that cast a soft glow. She walked up to him, her diamond bracelet and opal necklace swishing as she moved. She put her arm around Lucky's broad shoulders, the scent of her sweet perfume making its way into his nose. Her diamond ring sparkled as she rubbed the back of his neck. With the other hand, she swished her glass of champagne. "Pardon me, sir, but were you looking for a Benito Clement?"

"Yes," said Lucky slowly, "Do you know where he might be?"

"Maybe," said the woman slyly in her sultry, gently rasping voice, "I happen to be his secretary, as a matter-of-fact."

"What's your name?" asked Lucky.

"Robinia," she said.

"Well, Robinia, I'm Mr. Lucky. I am looking for Beinto Clement. Can you tell me where he is, please?" asked Lucky in his suave manner.

"Of course," said Robinia, "Come sit with me."

Lucky followed the young woman to a round booth by the window. It was well away from the crowds of noisy people. She sat down gracefully and patted the seat next to her. Lucky sat beside her. "Miss Robinia, do you know where Clement is?"

"Yes, I do. But first I want to know this; why are you so insistent upon seeing him?" she smiled a sultry, red-lipstick, almost Marilyn Monroe like smile.

"Because I had something to offer him. You see, he has something very valuable—of such value that it could qualify as priceless. But I do have an offer for him."

"And what might that be?" asked Robinia.

Lucky smiled and shrugged. "I'm afraid I just can't tell you. This is between Benito and me."

"Oh, Lucky," she said, "Surely there are no secrets between you and me." She inched closer to him.

"But we've only just met," Lucky played along. "I never reveal such information to strangers, even if they are beautiful young women."

Robinia put her arms around Lucky's waist. "Then let us become friends, so we do not have such secrecy between us. You and I."

"But it takes time," said Lucky, "I don't know if I can trust you. Besides, I don't even know your last name."

"Well, isn't that interesting?" she chortled, "I don't even know your first name. What is it?"

"It varies." said Lucky, "Sometimes it's Be. Sometimes it's Look. Sometimes it's I Am. But usually it's Go."

Robinia laughed her charming laugh. "Oh, now you're just playing with me! Would you believe me if I told you my last name is Nest?"

"Robinia Nest." Lucky chuckled. "Like the sound of it."

"About the first name." Robinia put her arms around Lucky's neck and pulled him closer.

"About Clement." he corrected. "And your real last name."

Robinia sighed blissfully. "Addy."

"Robinia Addy." repeated Lucky.

"Mmm hmm. Robinia Lorelei Addy." She pressed her lips against his. When they parted, she continued, "And I know where Clement is."

"Why don't you tell me?" asked Lucky.

"No, not here," said Robinia, her voice dripping caution, "We had best discuss this at my place. Or your yacht. Take your pick."

"Your place," said Lucky. "If we find we can't talk well there, then we'll go to my boat and talk there. Now, shall we get going?"

"Of course," said smiled, getting up. "And Lucky? One more thing."

"Yes?"

She leaned onto him. "Will you drive me back? I took a taxi here since my car is in for repairs."

"Of course." said Lucky, taking her hand. "Come with me."

"Why don't you go on ahead?" asked Robinia, "I need to hurry to the restroom and fix my makeup."

"Why don't I wait for you?" asked Lucky.

"You sure do have a knack for pressuring in style, don't you, Mr. Lucky?" smiled Robinia. "Very well, I suppose it can wait."

"That's more like it," said Lucky. "Shall we go?"

Robinia slipped her arm into his and they walked out of the cheery, crowded, noisy building and into the parking lot. Across from the room, seated by away from the crowd, a man sat there, watching them depart.

"Uh oh. That can't be good. Lucky doesn't know this, but that lady is wanted for murder. If he keeps questioning her, sooner or later she'll get the better of him. I bet Clement sent her to keep Lucky off the case."

He turned to his friend, who was causally sipping his drink. "Well Jim, think we'd better get the plane and follow?"

His friend gave it some thought. "No, Ted," he said, "Our orders were to track down that car Rovacs described to us. He hired us to help Gunn on this case while he inspects the house. We should call Rovacs and tell him, though."

"Try," said Ted, "But I'm warning you, he's the stingiest person in the police force. He may deny it without evidence."

"Well, he's gonna have to shape up and listen." said Jim, getting up and heading to the phone. He picked up and dialed. "Operator? Can you get me Lieutenant Tom Rovacs, please? Thank you...Lieutenant? This is Jim Buckley of the Ripcord Skydiving operation...yes, I am at Lorena's Club...yes, we've found someone who might know about Clement's whereabouts...Robinia Lorelei Addy...yes, we are very much aware that...yes, he's with me, yes...yes, and Lucky just left with her...he said he wanted to get information out of her at her place...exactly, Lieutenant, and we want you to send some deputies out for them...yes, I will be sure to...yes. Thank you. Bye."

"Well?" asked Ted and Jim hung up.

"Rovacs is sending some squad cars after them. He wants us to keep up after the car. I guess we'd better head back to the hanger." he said.

"Well, let's get going _now,_" said Ted, "That Andamo fella is bound for seriously deadly trouble."

"All right, let's get on with it," said Jim.

And with that, they hurried out into the night.

…...

Andamo groaned and opened his eyes. The whole world was blurry. His head pounded as though being hit by a 35 pound hammer—if hammers ever got that big. It hurt so much that his stomach swirled. His arms and legs felt scraped. He desperately wanted to lie down, but, as his head began to clear, he realized he was tied upright. After several minutes of blinking, he was finally able to make out where he was—in Clement's wine cellar.

"Oh no, not again!" he cried out loud, "Why does this always happen to me?"

The door creaked open. To Andamo's horror, Bing Moreen stood in the doorway, coiling his blood-stained whip. He gave a wicked laugh, "I heard you escaped and tried to get Zuleika Edsel to help you, didn't you, Señor Andamo?"

Andamo's stomach tightened. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Nothing," said Moreen, "Don't you see, you're both in the same stewpot."

"What?" asked Andamo.

"You see, Miss Edsel used to be Clement's sweetheart—well actually, she would have been _my _sweetheart, but apparently Clement had so much more to offer—money, perhaps. Anyway, she broke up with him when she found out what was doing—gambling and messing around with other women. She gets so jealous very easily. But anyway, he wanted to take revenge on her for breaking up. And it just so happens he found _you _trying to win her sympathy."

Andamo fought as hard as he could against the blackness that threatened to take his consciousness. "I was only trying to find shelter."

"Oh, Señor, you really are a stupid, helpless fool. You shouldn't have tried that. If had any sense at all, you'd've stayed here where you at least had a roof over your head!"

Andamo gaped helplessly, not because of Moreen's harassing speech, but because of the blackness that was beginning to grip him.

Moreen laughed. "Oh Señor! You look so funny! Here, have a look!"

He pulled out his pocket mirror and held it in front of Andamo's face. He gasped at the bloodied, scratched face that stared back at him. "I-I-Is th-that s-supposed...to be...m-me?"

"Yep!" said Moreen, "I did some work on ya while you were out. Remember what I said about having that Lucky fellow pouring all those clams into a good-looking corpse? Well, Señor, the party's starting now!"

Before Andamo could do anything, Moreen yanked out a knife from under his jacket and lunged at him. Andamo rolled out of the way, but into a corner. Moreen loomed over the helpless man, holding his knife high above him.

Andamo's face went white.

Moreen hurled the knife into his shoulder.

**TBC**


	4. Kidnapping and fallouts

"Hey Jacoby?"

The Lieutenant looked up,"Yeah, Gunn?"

"I've just searched the whole house, despite the little old lady's disapproving air," said Gunn as he climbed back into the car. "Absolutely no sign. Even his luggage is gone."

"Moved out?" asked Jacoby.

"I doubt it. But he may be detained due to unpleasant business." said Gunn, "Have you gotten any word from the Ripcord Skydiving operation?"

"Yeah, they've contacted nearly every dealership in the state," he said gruffly, "They've managed to track down the one he got it from. And the license and VIN." He paused. "Unless he changed the plates."

"Maybe, but the VIN is something you can't mess with," said Gunn, "But Jim and Ted are busy on that case. I gotta call from Rovacs a while back, saying he's put Ripcord on that case now. In the meantime, we need to finish up looking for Clement. Where else could he be hiding? At a friend's?"

"Just how many 'friends' do you think that no-good lout has?" demanded his friend.

Gunn sighed. "Jacoby, do you know anyone who works for Clement?"

"Yeah, a few people. But I heard Clement used to have a girlfriend named Zuleika Edsel. She's over on 8th Street. Maybe we can ask her. I heard she really hates his guts." said Jacoby. "I vote we drive over there and have a chat."

"Good idea then. We'd better head on over." said Gunn. He turned on the engine and the car zoomed down the neighborhood and into the night.

…...

Not much later did they stop in front of a cream-colored house with its lights still on. Gunn and Jacoby piled out and knocked on the door. When no one answered, he pulled on the doorknob. "Locked!"

"The windows are locked and the shades are down." said Jacoby. "We may have to get the police to break in."

"Let's try once more." said Gunn. He rung the doorbell this time. There was the sound of a feeble voice.

"Someone's in there!" he said, "Come on, Jacoby, we'll have to knock this door down."

The men kicked the door open and rushed inside. A young woman was lying on the ground, moaning. They rushed to her side.

"Miss, are you Zuleika Gregory Edsel?" asked Gunn urgently, "I'm Peter Gunn and this is Lieutenant Jacoby."

The woman raised her head. "Gunn? Oh yes, I'm Zuleika Edsel. Did you catch him?"

"Catch who?" asked Jacoby, raising his eyebrows.

"That man...Clement?" muttered Zulieka.

"What?" asked Gunn.

Zuleika weakly pointed to the couches. "I think we'd better sit and talk."

"All right. Jacoby, help me get her up."

The men got on each side and helped her to the couch. Once seated, Gunn calmly said. "Miss Edsel, I want you to tell me what has been going on. I'm aware you and Clement broke your engagement, but what is the meaning of this, being locked inside with the shades down?"

"It was Clement," she frowned, "He just barged in here and held me and my guest at gunpoint, and-"

"Wait a minute, Miss Edsel," said Gunn, raising a hand. "Who was the guest you were referring too?"

"His name was Andamo," she replied, "Anyway, he held us at gunpoint, accused me of spoiling his plans, and knocked me into the wall when I tried to take his gun."

"Andamo was here?" asked Gunn, "When? Why? And where is he? And Clement?"

"Well, I found him collapsed on the steps in front of my door. He said he's been wandering around the town and he came here when he saw my lights were on."

"What kind of condition was he in?" asked Gunn.

"He didn't look too good," said Zuleika, "His face was white, his wrists were scratched, and he sounded hoarse. I think he had a cold or something. He wasn't adequately dressed, only in a short-sleeved white shirt and dark pants."

"I see," said Gunn. "What happened next?"

"Well he tried to phone the Fortuna but I don't think anyone was there. I told him he needed to stay here and I'd drive him home the next morning. Then Clement showed up and that's when the big mess happened."

"Did you happen to catch sight of his car?" asked Gunn.

"No...wait a minute...I'm pretty sure it was a dark cyan 1956 Ford Sunliner, since that's the car he's had ever since I've known him. I'm afraid I can't recall the license, though."

"That's all right," said Jacoby, "We've managed to track that and the VIN. Do you know where he was headed?"

"Probably his house or one of his clubs." said Zuleika, "Or..."

"Or?" prompted Gunn.

"Before I blacked out, I heard voices and a shoving sound. I think Clement forced Andamo into his car. He's got to be headed to his house."

"We've checked his house." said Jacoby, "Absolutely no sign of him. Even his luggage was gone."

"Well, where else _can _he go?" wailed Zuleika.

"Tell me," said Jacoby, looking up from his notepad. "Does he have any close friends or relatives?"

"Not that I know of, except..." Zuleika paused for a moment. "Someone named Bing Moreen."

"Bing Moreen!" exclaimed Jacoby. His gazed shifted towards Gunn. "If that's so-"

"Then Andamo's in huge trouble!" Gunn jumped his feet. "Forgive me, Miss, but we need to get back on this case right away! Do you know where he lives?"

"Yes, he lives in a tall, restored building on 5th Street," said Zuleika, "But there are tons of floors and doors, and I'm sure the place is heavily guarded."

"We're aware of that, Miss," said Gunn, "In fact, we could use your help."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"As soon as we leave, call the police, give the address, tell them Peter Gunn and Lieutenant Jacoby are on their way over there." he said as headed to the door. "Then stand by. We'll let you know if anything happens."

"I hope you find him!" called Zuleika as they departed. "Be careful!"

"We'll try." called Gunn, closing the door behind him.

Jacoby hopped into the car. "So we head on over to Moreen's place and issue an arrest?"

"We can't attack in force," said Gunn, "Or they'll kill Andamo. We need to keep him alive. In the meantime, we'd better head to the nearest telephone booth and check in on Jim and Ted."

"Okay then." said Jacoby.

Gunn turned the key and down the road they went.

…...

"Here we are," said Robinia as she pulled up to a sleek little house. "My humble abode."

"It's lovely," said Lucky.

Robinia smiled. "Shall we?"

"Ladies first, of course," smiled Lucky.

Robinia laughed as he hopped out of the car. She walked up to the house, unlocked it, and walked inside, Lucky at her heels.

"Here we are," she smiled, "What do you think?"

"Nice," said Lucky, eying the hallway that split into two rooms, a kitchen and living room.

"If you'll wait in the kitchen," she said, "I'll run upstairs and change, then we'll look at getting a late supper, okay?"

"Okay," said Lucky, "Don't stay up there too long."

Robinia laughed and hurried upstairs. Once she was gone, Lucky wandered over to the kitchen and sat down in a nearby chair. He scanned the the room for any drawers or hidden compartments. Taking advantage of his alone time, he began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something—anything-that might help him find out where his best friend was.

"Mr. Lucky?"

Lucky's head immediately shot up and he shut the drawer as Robina, in jeans and a red and white striped T-shirt, walked into the kitchen. "You ready for dinner?"

"Yes," he smiled. "What are we having?"

Robinia rummaged through her fridge. "I think we'll make some sandwiches and salads tonight." She began pulling out various breads, cheeses and meats. "Would you be so kind as to start washing some vegetables?"

"Certainly," said Lucky, placing some lettuce under the running faucet. "Now, may we please talk?"

"Of course," said Robinia, "Whatever about?"

"Let's start with Clement's whereabouts." suggested Lucky.

Robinia nodded distractedly. "Benito Clement is a very influential man. Too influential for his own good, you might say. Because of its overpower, he was forced to leave his humble abode and live in some ragged, run-down apartment on 5th Street."

"Ragged and run-down you say?" mused Lucky as he put the lettuce into a bowl. "That's no place for a man too be."

"Oh no," said Robinia as she finished chopping up the carrots, "He's not alone. A friend of his owns the place, and agreed to let him stay."

"I see. And who is that friend? I have a strange desire to get acquainted with him." said Lucky as he dumped the lettuce into another bowl and began filling it with turnips and tomatoes.

"I think his name is Bing Moreen." said Robinia as she began putting together a ham and Havarti sandwich, "He does building restoration as a hobby. If you ask me, though, he's gotten too big for his britches, since that apartment is so rugged. I'm downright amazed it hasn't collapsed and killed him yet!"

"Well maybe he's gotten it to the point of it being structurally safe," said Lucky as he held the bowl under the running faucet, "Surely he wouldn't be foolish enough to let his friend stay in a place that is unsafe in any way."

"I suppose not," said Robinia. She looked up from her cutting board. "What kind of a sandwich would you like, Mr. Lucky?"

"Anything as long as Clement and Moreen are in the middle," said Lucky with a cocky half-smile.

Robinia laughed, "You're not letting me off the hook anytime soon, are you?"

"Well, maybe when I find what I want, there will be pleasant rewards," said Lucky, "But until you are able to go out and find them, I'll settle for a ham and Swiss sandwich, please."

"All right," she said as she started putting one together, "And what dressing would you like for your salad?"

"Ranch, please," said Lucky as he seated himself at the table.

Robinia hurried over with the sandwich. "I'll have the salad ready in one moment," she said, hurrying back to the kitchen. She returned with the salad a minute later. "There you are," she said, setting it in front of Lucky and taking the seat across from him, "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," said Lucky. He bit into his sandwich. "Delicious." he then tasted the salad. "Equally good."

"Thank you," said Robinia.

"Now," said Lucky, wiping some of the dressing off his the corners of his mouth, "I want to know this: what is your relationship with Clement? As in, how much do you know of his plans?"

Robinia took a dainty bite of salad. "Oh, I know everything about his plans, even keep copious records of them. I am afraid I cannot reveal them to strangers."

"Oh that's too bad," said Lucky, "I thought we were becoming close friends."

"Not even my mother and father know about the records." she said, "I'm sorry Mr. Lucky. I like you, but I can't allow you to see them."

Lucky shrugged. "I guess you're right. I don't believe I could persuade you to change your mind?"

Robinia smiled and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Sorry."

"Not even if I offered you complete protection from possible prosecution?" asked Lucky.

At this remark Robinia's eyebrows twitched slightly, but her face was firm. "No, Mr. Lucky. I'm sorry. It just isn't going to work out that way."

Lucky nodded. "I guess you're right."

Robinia sighed. "But apart from that, I presume I gave you all the information you were looking for?"

"For now, yes," said Lucky as he tossed his wadded up napkin onto the empty plate. "Well, Miss, I really need to be going. You've been a great help, and thank you."

"Thank you so much for coming over Mr. Lucky," said Robinia as she escorted him to the door, "It's so rare when people visit me. I do hope you'll come back again."

"I will," Lucky promised. "And perhaps sooner than you think." he said with a smile.

Robinia laughed again. "Well then, goodnight Mr. Lucky."

"Goodnight Robinia," said Lucky, closing the door behind him.

Robinia hurried to the window and watched Lucky's car leave the driveway. Once he was gone, she hurried towards the stairs.

"All right, you can come out now." she called.

Two big, muscular figures tromped down the stairs. "Was it he?"

Robinia nodded. "It was Mr. Lucky all right. He was asking for Clement. He wanted to see my records. I told him no and he left."

"That's good," the taller one said, "but what do you want _us _to do?"

Robinia walked up to him. "I want you both to follow him. See to it that he doesn't leave the neighborhood."

"We'll try, Miss," said the shorter one. "But what is it you want done to him? Surely you don't want us to just bring him back. That might prove difficult."

"I'm not asking you to bring him back. I want you to go after him and see that he doesn't leave this neighborhood...alive."

…...

Lucky was practically standing on the gas pedal as the car zoomed towards the highway. His heart raced in anticipation. Now that he knew about Clement's whereabouts, perhaps there was some hope in rescuing Andamo after all. He hoped it wasn't too late to save his friend.

Lucky was about to make a right turn when a sky blue 1957 Chevrolet Delray station wagon pulled in front. Two men got out and approached him.

Lucky rolled down the window. "Good evening, gentlemen, what's up?"

"We're having a problem with our engine, it's badly rattling," said the tall one, "Can you help us, please?"

"I'd be glad too," replied Lucky stepping out, "I'm afraid I don't know much about automotive repair, but I can call a tow truck for you."

"Excellent," replied the man as Lucky started to lead him to the nearest phone.

"Hold it!"

Lucky spun around to see the men holding him at gunpoint. "All right buster, hands up and face to the wall, please."

Lucky had no choice but to do as he was told. "What kind of a game is this?" he demanded over his shoulder.

"Why, only the game worthy of the candle, so to speak."

Lucky spun around to see Robinia approaching, also with gun in hand. "It would seem you've gone through a lot of trouble to get that bit of information from me, Mr. Lucky."

"Robinia Addy!" he exclaimed, "I should have known all along. You were behind this scheme, weren't you?"

"That's well put, Mr. Lucky," she said, "I'm only sorry I had to put you through this. But I had to ensure you wouldn't hurriedly turn me in. That's why I answered the questions. Now that I've got you held up you won't have time to go rant to the police about my not answering all your questions."

"All right, Robinia, have it your way!" snapped Lucky, "Now where is Andamo?"

"He's headed for Doomsday!" screeched the shorter one.

"You shut it!" barked his companion.

"No, Cornelius," said Robinia, "I'll answer the questions."

"Where is he?" demanded Lucky again.

"He's probably dancing in the stars, now." said Robinia.

"I'm warning you, if one of your villainous, cold-blooded hooligans has killed Andamo-" Lucky started.

"No," said Robinia, holding up a finger. "No. Take him back to my place. We can talk reasonably there."

"All right buster," growled Cornelius, "Move!"

Lucky started to go, then spun around and punched the henchman square in the jaw. He tried to make a run for the car but the other man jumped onto him. Lucky flung him aside but Cornelius sneaked up behind him and hit him on the head with a mini club. Lucky fell onto the road, unconscious.

"All right boys, pick him up and take him to my place." ordered Robinia, "Let's move now."

The henchmen each grabbed one of Lucky's arms and drug him to the wagon. Robinia started to follow until something shiny struck her eye. She knelt down, picked up the circular object, and flung it open. It tingled a few chimey notes.

"Ah, this will do nicely," she said quietly. Shutting it, she hurried back to the wagon.

…...

Andamo cried out in pain as the knife drove through the flesh. Terrified that the knife would tear through his shoulder, he kicked Moreen, sending him staggering back. Andamo started to push himself up, then gasping, collapsed to the ground, clutching his arm, which dangled loosely like a tree branch bent down from heavy snow when he tried to lift it. He pulled his hand aside. Red, sticky blood rose to the surface. "It's broken!" he gasped hoarsely. "My arm!"

Andamo tried to get up, but fell down. If Moreen noticed, he didn't care. Andamo was barely able to roll out of the way as the man lunged at him again, his knife driving into the floor. Fortunately, the wood was tough, and the blade of his knife broke off. He swore loudly.

"Look what you've done, Señor!" he shouted. "You've broken my knife!"

"Good," croaked Andamo, too exhausted to crack up another sarcastic joke, "Does that mean the party's over? I don't think I like this kind."

"Over? Ha!" snarled Moreen, "It's not over yet, pal! Wait till you see what I can cook up for you! I won't even bother with the knife. I'll find a more severe torture for you!" He raced to the door. "Stay put!" he called back, closing the door with a villainous laugh.

"Oh, no you don't," Andamo whispered, slumping against the wall. He glanced at the door; Moreen hadn't locked it; he knew Andamo was too weak to try to escape. He was too tired to even crawl to the door. Besides, Andamo thought, even if I did, where would I go? He had no money, and he wasn't going to be able to walk very far. He was probably going to die, anyway.

Mustering up every bit of strength left in his body, he crawled over to the door and gripped the knob with one hand. He twisted and pushed, but the door didn't open.

_Darn! It's jammed!_ he thought, letting himself slump to the ground. _I'll never get out of here. No one will find me. They'll go right past this place._

Suddenly the knob began to turn. Andamo clung to the doorknob to keep it from opening, despite the blackness that was beginning to grip him. His head felt like it was being squeezed, and his stomach became tight and swirly. His breathing was cut off, and he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. The door flew open, shoving him aside. Andamo's head hit the wall with a thud and everything went black.

…...

Meanwhile, high above the city, the plane soared through the dark sky, it's searchlight impaling the clouds below. Jim and Ted stood in the cockpit alongside the pilot, keeping their eyes open for any sign of Andamo or the cyan car.

"I can't see a blasted thing!" said Jim, "No car, no Andamo. And God only knows where Clement's hideout is."

"I'm getting discouraged, too." said Ted, "But we're not ditching this case yet. Clement is a dangerous man."

"I know," said Jim, "I know Lucky's worried sick over him. But this is a wild goose chase. Besides, it's dark, so even if he is out there, I don't think we'll be able to see him."

"If we don't, someone else will," said Ted, "Rovacs has squad cars everywhere, the Navy has sent out a few ships, we sent out search planes and helicopters, and even sent along an ambulance in case something terrible has happened."

"I just hope Clement hasn't moved his hiding spot," said Jim, "And good for Rovacs. I'm amazed."

"He's stingy, yes, but proactive when he needs to be," said Ted, "Well, we'll be stopping for fuel in a few minutes. Then we'll call Gunn and Rovacs and fill them in."

Jim nodded as the plane towards the west, ready for landing.


End file.
